Claimed By The Tyrant King

Even Rosalind was shocked by Alaric’s declaration that she had won.

There was no way that could be right...

Sabine rose to her feet immediately, her expression shifting from shock to anger in an instant.

How could the viscount’s daughter be placed above her?

And she was right, because the moment Rosalind’s canvas was turned for all to see, their mouths fell open in disbelief.

This... this was what the king intended to reward?

Lady Evelina herself looked surprised, though she said nothing. She knew better than to challenge the king and simply kept her silence, trusting that Alaric knew what he was doing.

Meanwhile Sabine, who never knew when to hold her tongue, could not contain herself and immediately blurted out, "Your Majesty... this is not what you asked us to paint, this should not even be considered at all," her voice rising sharply.

Alaric looked at her with a calm expression before a faint smile formed on his lips, his attention shifting back to the canvas as he said, "I like this painting, the way the colors collide creates a mesmerizing effect, and the strokes are carefully placed," his words trailing slightly as he continued to observe it.

All of them tilted their heads slowly to the side as they studied Rosalind’s painting. [This same canvas!?]

Nothing about this made sense to Rosalind.

Instead of punishing her for clearly failing the task, he was standing there rewarding her. Still, she reminded herself that Alaric might look composed, but he was not someone who could be called sane in the usual sense.

"This painting was done intentionally by Rosalind," Alaric said at last, his tone firm, cutting through the silence. "That is why it wins."

"But... but..." Sabine began again, unable to stop herself, until Alaric’s gaze snapped to her, cold and sharp enough to silence her halfway.

"This does not resemble the statue at all," she said quickly, forcing her words out despite the pressure in the air. "She should be punished, not rewarded. This is unfair, Your Majesty."

Alaric’s expression darkened, and Sabine immediately regretted speaking.

"I have decided," He said, slower this time, as if making sure they all understood, "that this painting will be rewarded."

That was final.

Verity, Claire, and even Sabine thought deep down that if the statue had been the task, then there should have been no exception...

But none of them were foolish enough to say it aloud again.

Sabine, however, could not let it go as she had poured everything into her work, shaping every detail of the statue as perfectly as possible, only to be overlooked for something so meaningless. Her jaw tightened as she looked at Rosalind again, resentment settling deeper.

You just keep making me hate you, she thought bitterly.

At Alaric’s signal, the servants moved forward and carried in a large box that immediately drew everyone’s attention.

Rosalind watched as they placed it carefully on the ground. "Open it," Alaric ordered, and one of the servants unlocked it.

Inside were countless items that caught the light the moment the lid lifted.

A treasure box.

Alaric’s gaze returned to Rosalind as he noticed her parted lips and confusion, and he said gently, "Rosalind, pick whatever you like," his voice calm, almost soft.

Rosalind looked at him with uncertainty, as though trying to understand what this meant, but he only gave her a small encouraging nod.

Still, she did not move.

"I don’t think this is right, Your Majesty," she said quietly.

Alaric’s brows drew together slightly. "Why?"

"Because I don’t deserve it," Rosalind said, her voice firm as she spoke. "I painted the wrong thing, I failed the task, so I have no right to accept a reward for something I did not do correctly."

Sabine, who had been watching closely, relaxed slightly at her words. For a moment, she thought Rosalind might refuse it entirely, and that perhaps the king would finally see reason and choose correctly.

But Alaric’s tone did not change. "Only I decide what is right, Rosalind," he said simply.

"It is not fair," Rosalind replied.

"Fairness depends on who holds the power to define it," Alaric countered, his voice rising slightly as he continued, "I do not need to follow what was expected of you. I choose what I value instead, and I can do that because I am the king."

His voice lowered slightly at the end, carrying something firm enough to end the discussion.

Rosalind swallowed as silence settled between them.

Then Alaric’s expression softened again, almost as if nothing had changed at all.

"Go on," he said quietly. "Pick whatever you like, little one."

Rosalind now had no other option but to walk toward the treasure box.

Unlike the king, she knew what was right and wrong, and that neither should be twisted or used wrongly.

This was clearly wrong, but Alaric cared not.

When she reached the box, she leaned closer and began going through the items...A mirror, a tiara that caught the light, a golden necklace, even a finely crafted kettle sat within, yet her hand moved across them without real interest because none of it felt like something she should be touching in the first place.

Alaric stood patiently with a faint smile, watching her to see what she would eventually choose.

After a moment, her attention settled on a red bottle that was crafted with precision, and when she looked closer, it seemed to hold liquid inside that carried a faint shimmer... A perfume. Something about it pulled her attention immediately, and before she could think further, she reached for it and rose to her feet, turning back toward him.

"Splendid choice," Alaric said with satisfaction, his gaze still on the bottle in her hand. "Do you know where it is from?" he asked.

Rosalind met his gaze and shook her head, though curiosity lingered as the perfume felt strangely familiar in a way she could not explain.

"It is one of Merovia’s luxury perfumes. Not many people have access to it," Alaric said.

"You must have learned fine taste from me," he added with a faint smile.

But Rosalind was no longer fully focused on his words as the name lingered in her mind.

"Merovia?" she repeated, the r rolling slightly in her accent.

Alaric’s eyes narrowed in brief surprise. "You pronounce it quite well... Almost like someone who has been there," he said.

"Merovia," Rosalind said again quietly to herself, looking back at the bottle.

There was a strange pull toward it, and for reasons she did not understand, she wanted to keep it. "Thank you, Your Majesty," Rosalind said.

Alaric waved it off without concern. "You should wear it every day. It will suit you more than all these ordinary perfumes."

Sabine glared in frustration... None of this felt right to her!

Why did all these good things always happen to Rosalind?

That bottle should have been hers. She should have been the one standing there while he looked at her like that!

Meanwhile, Rowan’s gaze stayed slightly distant as he observed everything...

Her accent.

The way she had pronounced the name just now without hesitation, as if it belonged on her tongue.

Her sun-kissed skin tone was different from the rest.

That mark on her collarbone.

And now this.

This bottle from Merovia... and the way she had looked at it was not with surprise, but with something else. Something that felt like recognition, even if she did not understand it herself.

Rowan’s jaw tightened slightly as the thought formed, slowly but certainly.

This was not a coincidence.

His eyes narrowed just a fraction as he looked at her again, and this time, he did not see her the same way.

Rosalind was not from Eryndor.

She was from Merovia.

And she had no idea.